The Story of Silk Part 6

The weeks had been busy, fatiguing ones with hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed meals, and interrupted slumbers.

"One could not keep on like this for a long stretch without more help,"

declared Madame Bretton. "I am glad the caterpillars have their houses made!"

"They are better houses than you think, too," added Josef. "For each silkworm has coated the inside of his little home with a gum-like substance that makes it waterproof. He has no intention of lying down to sleep in a leaky cottage where the rain may drip through."

"But there is no rain in here," objected Marie.

"Of course not. But the silkworm does not know that. He builds his house just as he would if it was out-of-doors where the good Lord intended it should be. Your caterpillar hasn't the wit to realize that conditions have changed with the years, and that he now lives out his days beneath a roof that does away with the need of water-proofing. It is because the coc.o.o.ns are thus sealed on the inside that the water does not penetrate them when they are floated. You'll notice that if you ever have a chance to see the silk reeled off. It protects the chrysalis until it pierces its way through its silken house and comes out a moth. But of course we shall not let ours do that."

"Why not?" inquired Marie.

"Why not? Because after you have worked so hard to get your silk you do not want it broken into short bits and spoiled, do you? If we were to let the moths mature and make holes in the coc.o.o.ns it would ruin all our silk. No. We must let only a few moths come out and lay their eggs that we may have them to hatch for our next crop of silkworms. We'll select some of the finest coc.o.o.ns for the purpose--those that are largest and most perfect. Some must be male and some must be female moths."

"But how can we tell? Aren't they all shut up inside the coc.o.o.ns?"

gasped Pierre.

"Oh, it is quite easy," answered Josef. "The female silkworm spins a house which, like an egg, is a little sharper at one end than at the other. We'll choose about the same number of each gender. There is a knack in selecting good coc.o.o.ns for breeding, and you've got to know lots of things about them. And after we have chosen them there will be the rest of the coc.o.o.ns to sort. That will require care, too. We cannot do it as experts do, but still we can group them roughly into lots of various kinds. We can get at it to-morrow. I will give you your first lesson. I fancy your mother knows more about it than the rest of us for she has always helped your father do this part of the work."

"It will be fun to learn!" cried Marie. "Won't it, Pierre?"

"I don't believe it will be very hard," sniffed Pierre. "There can't be much choice in coc.o.o.ns. Most of them look alike, except that some are bigger than others."

Josef regarded the boy a moment and then laughed.

"Don't be too c.o.c.k-sure of that!" he retorted ironically.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VII

THE SILK HARVEST

The Bretton family spent the next week collecting and sorting their coc.o.o.ns into baskets, grouping together as well as they were able those that were to be kept for breeding; those that were soiled or imperfect; and those that were double. They also separated the coc.o.o.ns that were of different colors, for among the lot were not only white ones but many that were yellow, and even some of a greenish tint. This varied, Josef explained, with the different species of silkworms. Before the silk was reeled off the coc.o.o.ns would, of course, go through another and more thorough cla.s.sification under the hands of the experts at the filature, as the reeling factory was called. But even this first rough grouping was a help to the buyers.

In the meantime some of the caterpillars that worked more slowly were still busy with their spinning, and could not be disturbed. Accordingly much care had to be taken in removing the coc.o.o.ns that were finished.

Those in the lower tiers of arches were first taken out, and afterward the ones higher up on the shelves. The sooner the coc.o.o.ns could be collected, after their completion, Josef said, the better, for within ten days they depreciated from seven to eight per cent., and if sold in bulk, brought a lower price. In consequence the Brettons, who were to sell their crop to a silk merchant who visited the town each year, promptly set about gathering their harvest as soon as possible.

Many of the coc.o.o.ns were really beautiful, being of a perfect oval outline and of pale golden color.

Marie and Pierre were delighted.

"It is worth all the endless trays of mulberry leaves, isn't it, Mother?" exclaimed Marie. "Why, even Father could raise no finer or larger coc.o.o.ns, I am sure."

"We have done well," her mother agreed. "But remember, we have had great good luck. No epidemic or disease came to blight the lives of our caterpillars; nor did annoyances of any sort interrupt their spinning.

We did our part, certainly; but favorable conditions had much to do with our success."

"I only hope we have kept the right sort of coc.o.o.ns for breeding," said Josef. "That is all that is troubling me now. Upon our selection will depend the quality of our next season's crop. There are so many things to think of in choosing coc.o.o.ns for hatching. Not only must they be as perfect as we can get them, but they must have nicely rounded ends and a fine, strong thread. I tried to search out those with the ring-like band round the centre, for I have heard your father say that if we could get those we would be sure of having vigorous silkworms, since only caterpillars of the most powerful const.i.tution make their houses in that way."

"It seems to me we kept out a lot more than we shall need for breeding, Josef," complained Marie.

"We always have to put aside more than we actually require, Marie, because many will fail to hatch successfully and will be a loss,"

explained Josef. "Usually growers plan to devote about a sixth of their crop to this purpose."

"A sixth! Why, that would cut down our sales dreadfully!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the girl.

"Better sell less now and be a.s.sured of a plentiful supply of eggs next year," was the dry answer. "Don't you think so?"

Therefore the coc.o.o.ns for hatching were gathered into one place and after the floss that clung to the outside of them had been removed so that it should not entangle the moth when it came forth from its house, Madame Bretton took a needle and being extremely careful not to pierce the chrysalis inside by putting it through the centre of the coc.o.o.ns she strung them on strings from three to four feet long and hung them over some wires stretched across the top of the room.

"There!" she said. "Nothing can reach them now. They will be well up out of the way of both mice and chickens, and in a month or two should hatch out all right."

The weather in the meantime had become very hot. The southern sun beat down on Bellerivre, parching its hillsides, and tanning its people to a dusky brown. But the peasants complained not of the high temperature, for was not this torrid sun that burned so fiercely the very factor they were calculating upon to complete for them the final preparation of their coc.o.o.ns for the market? This consisted in killing the chrysalis, or sleeping worm inside the coc.o.o.n, lest it come out and snap the delicate threads that it had spun. In cooler countries the process was accomplished by putting baskets of coc.o.o.ns covered with paper and wrapped in cloth into ovens about hot enough for the baking of bread.

Here they were left an hour or so until all moisture had exuded from them, proving that the worm had been dried up. Sometimes a blast of steam-heat was the method used for the destruction of the chrysalis.

Such methods required greatest care, however, lest in employing a degree of heat sufficient to exterminate the worm the silk also be damaged. But in Bellerivre no such artificial means had to be resorted to. Instead the coc.o.o.ns were spread out beneath the burning rays of the sun and left to bake, being wrapped each night in heavy black cloth that had also absorbed the heat and would retain during the night the high temperature acquired through the day. For three days this process was continued, the coc.o.o.ns being spread in the sun from dawn until dusk, and then bundled up inside the hot cloth throughout the night.

On the fourth day Josef said:

"Now it is time that we investigated and found out whether the worms are really dead."

He thereupon took a few coc.o.o.ns and cutting them open proceeded to examine the chrysalis inside. It was motionless and dry. Again he looked at it, this time touching it with the point of a needle. Still it did not move.

"It is quite dead," he remarked. "And the others must be so too. What wonder, when they have been so steadily exposed to this broiling sun? I should be dead if I were to lie in it day after day without protection, and so would you. We can now safely gather the lot into baskets and put them away until Monsieur Leclerq, the buyer, comes for them at the end of the week."

So once again the coc.o.o.ns were collected to await their purchaser, and the silk-raisers sat down with sighs of content to antic.i.p.ate the payment of the money they had so faithfully earned, and speculate as to what they should do with it.

"I don't believe you are any more glad to rest than your silkworms are!"

reflected Josef. "When you consider that each one of them spins between three and four hundred yards of thread you can't blame it for wanting to sleep when its work is done."

"Do they spin as much as that?" gasped Marie.

"Indeed they do--some of them more. Certain of the finest varieties will even turn out as many as six hundred and twenty-five yards. But that is a high figure. They usually average less."

"It is all wonderful, isn't it?" replied Madame Bretton. "And to think these tiny creatures are responsible for the silk the whole world uses!"

"I know it," agreed Josef. "Of course there are other spinners in the universe, however. The spider, for example, is a most industrious spinner, and I have read that in the past scientists tried to see if some of the larger spiders could not be utilized for silk-making. The velvety pouch, or bag, was removed and by some skilful process the greyish thread inside it was carded off. But the experiment was unsuccessful, for the silk thus made was far less firm and strong than that which came from the silkworm. After this failure another set of men tried to make silk by using the filament of the pinna."

"What is a pinna, Josef?" questioned Marie.

"The pinna is a variety of sh.e.l.l-fish not unlike the mussel; it fastens itself to the rocks and from between its sh.e.l.ls gives out threads something like those of the spider or silkworm. By means of them it spins a tough fibre by which it joins itself to any object to which it wishes to cling."

"And did they succeed in making pinna silk, Josef?" demanded Marie eagerly.

"They certainly did!" nodded Josef. "Along the Mediterranean were several places where they manufactured pinna thread. They even spun some fine, silky fabrics from it. But they never could get enough of the filament to make the industry practical, although in 1754 they did send to Pope Benedict XIV some stockings made from pinna silk. They were spun from very fine thread, and were so closely woven and so hot that I doubt if he cared to wear them unless in cool weather. Since then the weaving of pinna silk has been abandoned, although now and then one sees bits of it in some old fabric, or on exhibition somewhere. It is chiefly regarded as a curiosity."